A Dangerous Attraction
by CatzRuleMe
Summary: Steve Draculous moved to Bridgeport in search of fame and to gain social acceptance despite being a vampire. But when he sympathizes with a helpless and mentally unstable Sim, his attempt to fit in could quickly be destroyed forever. WARNING: Gay romance.
1. The Boy in the Alleyway

**Chapter 1**

**The Boy in the Alleyway**

One element about cities that people fail to consider is that there is always a dark side. While the high-class celebrities enjoy the various parties that are exclusive only to them, mingling with other famous legends in priceless outfits and sipping the finest champagne, there are always dark alleyways full of danger and poverty in between, where mysterious gangs rob homeless elders of any possessions they may have left. In the earlier years I have spent in the bustling city of Bridgeport, I was naive enough not to notice. All I saw was the glamour—the city was littered with parties and VIP clubs, and my opportunity to finally surpass the velvet rope with a nod from the bouncer only added to my ignorance. Since I was nothing more than the head chef at the nearby diner I was never much a celebrity, but having made friends with one awarded me some positive glances from strangers around town.

I glanced at my watch and tried to make out the time in the dark room. I was pretty sure it read four thirty-five, although it was difficult to tell in what little supply of strobe lights that I had.

"Don't worry about the time, Steve!" my friend shouted from across the table as he plucked a hot wing from the pile on his plate. He was not three feet from me since the table was small, but it was indeed loud in that club. "I've got my eye on it!"

I shrugged and adjusted myself on the tall stool. "So Kai, did you get a job yet?"

"Mmm?" he mumbled, his mouth full of wings.

"Did you get a job yet?" I repeated, slightly louder.

Kai swallowed his food in a husky gulp and answered me. "Not yet, but I'll keep looking."

I inwardly rolled my eyes. Kai had to be one of the only celebrities I knew without a job. I was surprised he had even been viewed as a celebrity. He was lazy, if not somewhat of a slob, and hated wearing shoes for some reason. He couldn't get a job anywhere, and was mostly surviving off of his girlfriend, Lola.

In fact, that was quite possibly the only reason why he was allowed into VIP clubs—he was dating Lola Belle, a legendary actress so famous she felt untouchable, even to me, and I had mingled with her on many occasions. On a stranger note, my friendship with Kai was what ultimately granted me access to the VIP areas in town. It was a bizarre chain of celebrities created from celebrities. I couldn't help but feel like the table scraps of someone grand, even though I have been asked for autographs around town.

I licked my lips as the first embers of thirst settled in my throat. I glanced at Kai, and I caught a delicious whiff of his plasma with each pulse that pushed it through his veins.

"Thirsty?" Kai guessed as he gazed amusedly at me.

"Yes..." I mumbled, as if unsure if I actually wanted to feed at that moment.

"Here," he offered, tugging at his shirt collar and exposing his thick neck. It was tempting, but I was nervous knowing he had already offered me nutrients earlier that morning.

"When was the last time I drank from you?" I asked.

"Don't worry, I feel fine," Kai insisted. "Just take a little if you're worried about it."

I sighed and leaned in, relishing in the warm scent of fresh plasma. Feeding off another Sim always tasted much better than those cold packs of plasma juice from the grocery store, and I had no idea how vegetarians could stand the taste of plasma fruit—it was no better than a mortal Sim eating a tofu burger.

I sunk my fangs into Kai's neck as gently as I could, but he still flinched and emitted a squeaky gasp. I felt the first traces of plasma wash into my mouth and instinctually sucked in as much as I could. The miniscule fire in my throat was extinguished as I gratefully took mouthfuls of Kai's scarlet juice.

"Okay, starting to feel a little dizzy," Kai complained.

I quickly retracted and wiped the plasma from the corner of my mouth. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Kai reassured, shifting in his seat.

I checked my watch again, straining my vision in the flashing room.

"It's nearly five," Kai declared, having checked his own watch. "We should probably head home."

I nodded and followed Kai out of the club. Ever since I had been turned into a vampire, I had become rather conscious of the time, especially when out at clubs. I certainly didn't want to be caught outside during the daylight.

Kai and I hopped into my car and we started down the road. I glanced briefly out at the ocean in the distance, just long enough to notice the first traces of sunlight creeping over the horizon. My pale skin started to tingle, and I drove a bit faster.

Suddenly, a large figure appeared in the middle of the road. I instinctually slammed on the brakes and came to a screeching halt in front of what I believed to be a person, but it darted off into an alley before I got a good look at it.

"What the heck was that!" I demanded, my voice high with lingering panic.

"It must have been that alley kid that everyone has been talking about," Kai replied.

"Alley kid?" I echoed as I continued to drive.

"I keep hearing people say they saw a scrawny Sim wandering the streets and living in alleyways," Kai explained. "No one knows where he came from or what his problem is."

"Has anyone tried to help him?" I asked nervously.

"No one really pays him any mind," Kai replied. "Homeless people are a common problem in these cities, and I think most people are used to it."

I went silent. I had been living in Bridgeport for several months, and I never witnessed any homeless Sims. I was suddenly curious about the individual in the alley, and wondered if there was anything I could do to help him out.

I crossed the bridge that led away from the city and toward the hills, where the celebrities lived in their massive, fancy houses. I took a long winding to Kai's house, where I let him out to get some sleep. Once I saw that he was safely inside, I backtracked the route from which I came and revisited the alleyway where I last saw the "alley kid."

I parked my car on the side of the road and wandered into the alleyway, trying to ignore the horrendous smell. I had to work quickly, as I felt the sun on my back bringing forth a stinging sensation, like a full-body sunburn. Luckily, it didn't take me long to spot a silhouette in the dim alleyway.

I had almost mistaken him for a pile of trash, and I probably would have passed him if it weren't for the faint light of dawn. He sat crouched on the dirty alley floor, hunched over something in his gangly arms. He wore only a pair of tattered jeans, and I could see each of his ribs perfectly lined down his long torso, as well as several thin cuts all over his back. His head hung low, his gaze on the ground, and his matted red hair was draped over his face on either side. He was shivering madly and sniffling; it was hard to tell if he was crying or if he was just cold.

"Hey," I greeted in a low voice.

The boy snapped his head in my direction, squeaked in fright and scooted away. I blinked in surprise when I saw his face. The alley kid that everyone was apparently talking about wasn't a kid at all—he must have been in his mid-twenties, about my age. But his large eyes looked childish as they stared up at me with fear, and that alone almost made him look like an oversized kid.

"It's really chilly out here," I pointed out, even though my skin was growing painfully hot with the rising sun. "Why don't you come with me?"

The boy didn't move a muscle. He continued to stare at me with his fear-stricken eyes, shivering uncontrollably.

"I promise I won't hurt you," I murmured. "I just want to help you."

He still didn't give me a response of any kind, but I quickly had an idea. I trotted back to my car and opened the door to the backseat, withdrawing a bowl of autumn salad that I had gotten from work earlier that night. Working at a diner meant that there would occasionally be leftover food for the employees to take home, but I didn't eat food on account of being a vampire, so I ended up throwing most of it out.

I brought the salad back to the boy and set it in front of him. As soon as I let go of the bowl, he lunged at it and devoured its contents ravenously, as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. But judging his current situation, that was probably the case. I noticed something fall out of his grasp when he reached for the food, and I looked closely to notice what looked like a raccoon plushie lying on the ground. It looked old and dull, its fur worn down to patches of gray fuzz in some areas, but other than that it was in relatively good shape. I reached curiously for the old doll, but the boy snatched it and hugged it to his chest, causing me to jump back slightly.

"It's alright," I assured. "I wasn't going to steal it."

He curled is body around the raccoon toy and shivered, appearing as he was when I first found him.

"Come with me," I encouraged. "I can get you out of the cold. I should probably take a look at those cuts on your back, too."

The boy yawned, resting his head on his knees. Searing pain crawled up my skin, particularly where it didn't cover my clothing, and I glanced back toward my car and realized that the sky was becoming brighter. I had to get inside quickly, but I couldn't leave the boy there. I picked up the salad bowl and quickly brought it back to the car, tossing it in the trunk. When I returned to the alley kid, he lay shivering on the ground, curled around his trusty raccoon. Without hesitation, I gently slipped my arms around him and hauled him off the ground. He didn't protest, but he did shudder when my freezing hand hit his bare back. He gripped his raccoon tightly and his teeth chattered as I carried him back to my car.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled sympathetically. "I know I'm cold. But we're almost there."

When I approached my car, I carefully twisted my hand to open the door to the backseat, then set the helpless individual inside. I shut the door and strode around my car to the driver's seat, settling inside and starting my vehicle. When the engine came roaring to life, I turned the heat on and started down the road toward my apartment. As the car grew warmer, the teeth-chattering that emanated from the backseat soon faded, and everything became quiet.

My skin felt as if it were on fire as I parked my car and went to collect the boy. He was completely limp in my hold; my hand on his back generated only a shallow mumble. I knew he was fast asleep, even though he still managed to hold onto his stuffed raccoon. When I carried him inside the building, I was washed with the cool relief of the indoors. The sun had ceased its merciless hot glare upon my pale skin, and the full-body sting that coated me as a result quickly subsided.

When we made it up to my apartment, I gently set the boy on the ground to fish my key out of my pocket. Once I unlocked the door, I picked him back up and hauled him over to the couch, where I set him down once more. I spotted a blanket on the arm of the sofa and carefully draped it over the sleeping boy.

It was rather difficult for me to believe that he was about my age. As much as he physically looked like a young adult, his expressions and behavior made him look infantile to an extent. Even as he slept, he was very baby-like; his face was smooth and peaceful, and his toy raccoon was secure in his grasp.

I was curious as to what he was dreaming about, and luckily my vampire powers allowed me to read his mind. I closed my eyes and focused hard, my brainwaves searching for his in the darkness of empty space between us. Slowly, a vision began to form from the blackness, and I saw a meadow of wildflowers and a few massive trees. My vision was shaky, as if I were running. I heard giggling, followed by an enthusiastic, high-pitched man's voice shout: "Darius! Come out and play with me!" After the exclamation, I spotted a rainbow stretching across the sky, and a horse galloped over and down a rolling hill. But as it got closer, I realized that it bore a unicorn horn upon its forehead. I heard more giggling as my vision spun and more running ensued, and it was at this point that I decided to break the connection.

I blinked a few times and my vision transitioned back to my apartment. My head ached from the mindreading, and I decided that I should get some rest myself. With one final glance at the sleeping boy, I left the room and wandered into my bedroom, slipping under the covers of my soft bed. Most vampires slept on altars rather than actual beds since our lack of body heat made the bed covers colder instead of warmer, but I preferred the sensation of the blankets enveloping me, caressing my hard skin. Even if it was cold under the care of the bed sheets, it at least brought me comforting nostalgia from when I was a mortal human.

As the light of day became brighter outside, I quickly fell into a deep slumber in the cool comfort of my dark room.


	2. Tortured

I awoke early in the afternoon and found myself unable to return to sleep. No matter how much I fidgeted and repositioned myself, I could never get comfortable enough to drift back into even a light slumber. Eventually, I sighed and hauled myself out of bed, groaning at the mixed sensation of very drowsy and wide awake that plagued my body. I wandered into the living room to notice that the boy I had taken in the night before was awake and sitting upright, staring expressionlessly at the wall.

"Hey, did you sleep well?" I asked, approaching him.

He snapped his head in my direction at the sound of my voice. He gazed at me shyly with his wide, childish eyes, but didn't give me a response.

"Not going to talk to me?" I guessed. After another long pause that basically answered my question, I continued. "Can I see your back?"

The boy didn't move as I moved behind him to examine his wounds. Most of the scratches that striped his bony backside in a disorganized manner appeared small and mostly healed, but a few cuts on his lower back were rather long and a deep red. Worried that they might be infected, I made a quick trip to the bathroom to retrieve a tube of disinfecting cream and brought it back to the boy.

"This is going to sting," I warned as I squirted a tiny portion of the substance onto my finger. The boy gasped as I lay a hand on his shoulder and pushed him slightly forward to slip my other hand down his back to smear the disinfectant onto one of his cuts.

As soon as I rubbed the substance onto the boy's cut, he screamed and thrust himself away from my touch, twisting himself off the couch and whacking his side on the coffee table before scurrying into a corner and curling into a tight ball.

"Whoa!" I barked, shocked by the speed at which everything happened.

The boy was shaking in the corner, sniffling. This time, I was almost entirely sure he was crying. I approached him slowly, and I was surprised to finally hear his voice.

"No…" he muttered. "No…I'm sorry. I'll be good. Please don't hurt me…"

"I'm not trying to hurt you," I assured him.

The boy continued to utter pleas in a whisper, his voice becoming shakier with each sentence. "Please Father, don't hurt me. I'm sorry."

"Father?" I echoed, confused. "I'm not your father."

"No…please…"

At this point, I became doubtful that he was even listening to me. Curiously, I tried once again to read his mind. I closed my eyes and focused with every part of my brain on the one next to me. The vision that appeared in my head was hard to make out. All I saw was what looked like concrete with reddish brown stains splattered about. I had a sickly feeling that the spatters were plasma, and I heard a booming voice scream: "CHUCK! I told you not to let the horses loose! I told you a billion times!" The scary outburst was quickly followed by the boy's terrified, shaky voice: "I'm sorry, Father! I didn't mean it! Please don't hurt me!" The monstrous voice responded with: "It's too late for sorry. And you know damn well I'm going to hurt you!"

I blinked furiously and broke the connection. I was horrified by the daydream I had witnessed…or, was it a flashback? The latter possibility scared me, and I wondered if the reason for this boy's behavior was because he was abused, likely by his own father. His father...that booming voice…it mentioned a name, quite possibly the boy's name.

"Chuck?" I muttered.

The boy snapped his head in my direction, his wide eyes piercing mine. Tear streaks striped his face, and his eyes were glossy from crying.

"Is that your name?" I asked.

The boy's lip quivered before he nodded his head. He sniffled, and another tear rolled down his wet cheek. I kneeled beside him, lowering to his level as to look less intimidating.

"It's okay," I whispered. "Don't cry, alright? I'm not here to hurt you. I want to help you."

Chuck's shaking hands balled into fists around the legs of his torn jeans. His gaze moved behind me, and I followed it to the raccoon, which lay in a lump on my sofa. I pushed myself to a stand briefly to retrieve the stuffed animal before squatting on the floor again and handing it to Chuck, who took it gratefully and hugged it to his chest.

"I need you to trust me on this," I said softly, though in a slightly firmer voice. "I need you to let me help you."

Chuck nodded and wiped his face with the back of his hand. I helped him off the floor and back onto the couch. He buried his face in his raccoon and hissed whenever I applied disinfectant to his back, prompting a brief apology from me as I tried to be as gentle as possible.

"Okay, you're done," I announced, capping the tube and laying it on the side table.

Chuck released a long breath that I wasn't even aware he had been holding in. He glanced up at me with less terrified eyes, and then his stomach growled.

"Hungry?" I guessed. "I can make you something."

He nodded gratefully, and I made my way to the kitchen and opened the fridge. I never had much in the way of food lying around, but I did manage to scrounge up a package of bread, a can of peanut butter and a jar of jelly. After a few minutes of preparing a PB&J sandwich, I delivered it to Chuck back in the living room. As soon as I set the plate down on the table, he dropped the raccoon, grabbed the sandwich and devoured it messily.

"Easy," I warned. "You don't want to make yourself sick."

Chuck ignored me and continued to wolf down the sandwich, seemingly not even waiting to chew it. Once he had finished, he lay across the bed and picked his raccoon plush back up.

"My name is Steve, by the way," I declared. I probably couldn't have been more random with that statement, but I was eager to let him know.

"I'm Chuck," he muttered, even though he had already confirmed it with me.

I nodded. "Is there anything else I can get for you, Chuck?"

Chuck paused, as if in contemplation. I quickly checked my watch and stared at it in surprise.

"Wow, time flies fast," I observed. "I have to go to work."

"Work?" Chuck whispered.

"I promise I'll only be gone a few hours," I said, starting toward my room to change into my uniform. "Are you sure there's nothing I can get for you?"

Chuck remained silent as I half-closed my bedroom door and removed my clothes from last night, then slipped on my white uniform. I tied up my long dark hair and gathered it into a hairnet, then lay my tall chef's hat on top.

"I'll take that as a no," I decided as I strode to the front door. "I'll be back at eleven, okay?"

He gave me no response; he merely stared at me as I sauntered to the front door and wandered outside, leaving him alone in the safety of my apartment.


	3. Frightened

I spent most of work in a daze, shaking with worry as I endured my shift. I felt clumsy as I prepared the dishes, unable to shake this extremely uncomfortable, antsy feeling. The meals I sculpted came and went, my arms programmed to stir and sprinkle while my mind was clouded with so many thoughts that I couldn't make a single one out. My lack of sleep was really starting to catch up with me, and I probably should have taken the day off. But there was nothing I hated more than missing work, no matter how exhausted I was.

By the time work was over, I was about ready to pass out. But I tried to contain my drowsiness as I exited the restaurant and spotted Kai sprawled across the bench. The bottoms of his bare feet were black with dirt, but his outfit was a fresh, clean white. He was dressed up to party, but I just couldn't. Not tonight.

"Steve!" he shouted, as if calling to me from a distance. "I've been waiting for you. Do you feel like hitting The Grind tonight? That's where everyone seems to be."

"Not tonight," I sighed. "I don't feel well."

Kai sat up on the bench and stared at me like I was nuts. "What do you mean? Are you sick or something?"

"No," I replied. "I haven't been able to sleep recently. Right now, I just want to go home."

Kai quickly stood up and approached me. "Is something wrong? You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Yeah," I mumbled. "But for now, I think I should be heading back to my apartment. I just need some peace and quiet, and maybe a month-long nap."

Kai nodded and gave me a firm pat on the back. "Suit yourself. I'll tell you what you missed."

My friend was in his car and speeding down the road in a heartbeat. I shrugged it off and got into my car, then spent my entire commute home struggling to concentrate on the road. I somehow managed to not fall asleep behind the wheel and make it back to my apartment complex, so I rode the elevator up to the twenty-second floor and sleepily fumbled with my keys. But just as I got the right key into the lock, I heard a crash.

I gasped and groaned practically at the same time and thrust the door open. I was shocked to find that most of my apartment had been trashed. The coffee table in front of the couch had been flipped over, and the potted plant on top of it had spilled across the carpet. The curtains blanketing the windows hand been torn down and were in several heaps against the walls. Many kitchen appliances such as pots and plates looked like they had been thrown out of the kitchen. I heard noises coming from there, so I decided to investigate. On my way over, I happened to step in a wet spot on the carpet, and the slight stench told me that it probably wasn't water.

"Ugh, gross!" I snarled. I continued my way to the kitchen where I was greeted by a strong and worrying yet surprisingly delicious odor. I peered into the kitchen to notice that the cabinets were open and empty. A puddle of water spread across the floor and emanated from a pile of broken glass that was once a fishbowl, which I guessed was the source of the crash. The goldfish flailed and flopped about on the floor, and Chuck sat shivering in the corner with his arms drawn in behind his knees. Red streaks were smeared across the linoleum around him, and I knew from the smell that it was plasma.

My mouth watered at the smell, but I was also furious. I stormed over to Chuck and crouched beside him, growling his name. When he looked up at me, he was crying. I wanted to feel bad for him, but rage from my destroyed apartment coupled with my tired crankiness made for a highly unstable combination.

"Let me see," I demanded forcefully, holding my hand out to observe what was bleeding. Chuck stared me in the eye for a split second before his expression grew panicked and he began flailing violently.

"N-No!" he shrieked. "I'm sorry! I'll be good! Don't hurt me, Father!"

This only made me angrier if anything, but I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down. "Chuck, I'm not your father. No one's going to hurt you."

Chuck stopped flailing, but continued to whimper in agony. I wanted to read his mind and see if there was some way I could help, but I was too exhausted to use my powers at that point. I noticed that Chuck's right hand, which now rested on the floor, was the source of the plasma. I gently reached over and wrapped my fingers around his wrist, then pulled his arm closer to me to survey the damage. Chuck jolted and squeaked in fright, but did not snap out of the episode he was apparently having. I looked his hand over and observed that a few fragments of glass had gotten lodged in his flesh. Despite the bleeding, his hand didn't look like it needed stitches, and I decided to use some home remedies. Besides, I was in no condition to take him to the hospital.

I let go of his hand and stood up. "I'll be right back, okay Chuck?"

Chuck's whimpering had faded into a whisper, but he didn't respond. I quickly decided to save my goldfish and filled a glass of water, then scooped up the fish and dropped him in. After that was taken care of, I wasted no time in rushing to the bathroom. I opened up the MediCabi and withdrew a pair of tweezers and a roll of gauze. I rushed back to Chuck's aid and took his arm again, then began the tedious task of trying to remove the glass shards.

"Augh!" Chuck gasped, his eyes flying open. He tried to yank his arm away, but I had a tight grip on it.

"Calm down," I whispered. "I have to get this glass out of your hand. If I can have your cooperation, we'll be done quicker."

It was still difficult to believe that Chuck looked as old as he did. I felt like I was talking to and coaxing a child. It could have been that Chuck was Childish, but even most Childish Sims I knew weren't this far removed from reality, or their age. In fact, Chuck seemed a bit animal-like when I first found him. I could only imagine it was from his life in the alleyways, on top of his crippled past. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if Chuck's infantile behavior was the result of him not having a childhood.

"Alright, I think I got it all," I mumbled sleepily as I surveyed his hand one last time.

Chuck fell silent and glanced hesitantly at his hand as I wrapped it in gauze. Once I had taped it up sufficiently, he flexed his fingers as if testing out the new sensation.

I felt ready to pass out, but I still had to clean up some of what I assumed was Chuck's mess. I grabbed a mop and began cleaning the linoleum of water and plasma, instructing Chuck to move out of the way. He crawled out of the corner I was cleaning and reunited with his raccoon doll, which I had just noticed on the other side of the kitchen.

When I had at long last finished cleaning the kitchen, I could barely stand up. I stumbled into my bedroom and flopped onto my bed, apathetic toward my unchanged clothes and lack of bed sheets. I would have made a bed out of the floor if I had to.

Just as I was about to fall asleep, Chuck approached me with eyes full of questions. At first I was extremely frustrated, but now that I was lying down, I didn't feel quite as drained, and I could probably hold off a little longer.

"Are you mad?" Chuck asked, his voice high and shaky. "Are you going to...to hurt me?"

"No, Chuck," I replied. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just...I'm in a horrid mood tonight, and I really didn't have to come home to a trashed apartment."

"I'm sorry," he squeaked, growing steadily more nervous. "I...I got scared."

I turned my head weakly to face Chuck. "What on Earth scared you? And how did it drive you to wreck my living space?"

"I'm sorry," he repeated, flinching with guilt for his crime. "I...I see things sometimes. Scary things. Y-You wouldn't understand. No...No one does."

"What kinds of things do you see?" I asked curiously.

"Bullwhips," he replied. "And plasma. My plasma. I hear my father. He says he's going to h-hurt me. He says I'm worthless."

"You see your father in visions?" I asked. "Is that it?"

"I guess," Chuck replied. "But I don't know it's a vision. It...It really seems like he's there. I did the only thing I f-felt like I could do: I...I threw stuff at him. T-Tried to ward him off."

"That must be why my apartment's a mess," I mumbled, more to myself than Chuck. But I redirected my attention to him quickly. There was one more thing I had to address with him immediately. "Chuck, did you pee on my carpet?"

"Um..." Chuck paused for a moment. "Y-Yes, I guess I did."

I sighed. "Please don't, okay?"

Chuck's expression became nervous again, and he hugged his raccoon to his chest. "Well, w-what am I supposed to do? I can't...I can't hold it. N-Not for very long, anyway."

I stared dumbfounded at the boy. "There's a toilet in the bathroom over there. Why can't you use that?"

Chuck stared in the direction in which I pointed. "Oh, oh yeah. T-Toilet. Okay. I...I forgot about that."

That was when I realized just how much the abnormalities of Chuck's life affected him. Obviously he had been living out on the streets for quite some time, and he could urinate wherever he pleased. But if he had to be reminded what a toilet was, he must have been out there longer than I could have ever imagined. It was probably some extreme miracle that he managed to stay alive all this time.

"You're sleepy," Chuck observed as my eyes fluttered, begging to close.

I hummed. "Very much so."

"I'll...I'll let you sleep," Chuck whispered, backing away from my bed. "And I'll sleep, too."

I saw Chuck leave my room just as my eyes closed and my exhaustion dragged me into unconsciousness.


	4. Two Worlds Collide

When I awoke sometime the next day, my body was completely stiff. With a hoarse grunt, I sat up and stretched, my joints popping as I did so. I was still wearing my work clothes from the night before, and I quickly changed into some jeans and an undershirt. My programmed morning routine took me to the bathroom, where I stood over the toilet in a daze. I felt like I must have been asleep for awhile, because I never felt this slow to fully wake up, but I never felt this well-rested either.

I finished in the bathroom and ventured into the kitchen. There I found Chuck sitting deep in the corner, holding what looked like one of my last packs of plasma juice. He had the can raised to his lips, and this sight brought me to my fully awakened state. I rushed over to him and ripped the can from his grasp. He whimpered in protest.

"Don't drink this stuff," I ordered. "You'll make yourself sick."

"I'm hungry," he muttered.

I bit my lip and turned toward the fridge. I opened it up to find it was completely barren, with the exception of two packs of plasma juice.

"Well, that's understandable," I figured. I closed the fridge and turned to Chuck. "I'm going to need to make a run to the supermarket."

Just as I said it, I regretted it. I didn't trust Chuck well enough to leave him alone again. I contemplated whether or not it was a good idea to take him with me to the supermarket, but my thoughts were interrupted by my phone ringing. I whipped it out of my pocket and answered it.

The sound of my boss's voice emanated from the other end. "Mr. Draculous, where were you today?"

"Where was I?" I echoed skeptically.

"Yeah, you never showed up to work."

"Wait a minute…" I wandered into the living room and checked the time. I was shocked to notice that my shift for the day was long over. "Oh, crap! I'm so sorry; I must have overslept big time."

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I would have had to take the day off anyway with Chuck around. I wandered back into the kitchen, where I found the boy wandering around, opening cabinets and the dishwasher, possibly in search of food. He finally found the garbage can and opened it up to root through, but he closed it when he realized it was filled with nothing but empty plasma juice cans.

"I'm sorry sir," I apologized. "But something came up at home and I'm finding it hard to attend work. But I promise, as soon as I get things sorted out, I'll come in and work double shifts, and…"

"Steve, relax," he interrupted. "Do what you have to do. You've worked hard enough for a while off."

"Okay," I sighed. "But let me know if anything comes up; I'll do whatever I can to help."

"Very well," he said. "Good luck with everything."

"Goodbye sir," I said before hanging up the phone. I turned to Chuck, who had huddled back onto the floor and hugged his raccoon doll to his chest. He was still rather filthy from living in the alleyway, and what little clothing he had on was ready to fall apart.

"Chuck, would you go take a bath or a shower?" I asked. "I'll bring you some fresh clothes you can wear."

"Bath or…sh-shower?" Chuck stared at me skeptically.

"Yeah," I replied. "Come here."

I led Chuck to the bathroom, where I showed him the bathtub and shower. He stared at it with a confused expression. I quickly figured that he probably didn't know how to work a faucet, seeing as I had to prompt him to use a toilet.

"Watch," I instructed. I plugged the tub drain and turned the faucet, causing the tub to fill with water. Chuck squeaked in astonishment, watching it with wide eyes. He gripped his raccoon toy with worrying force, and he trembled ever so slightly. I asked him: "Are you alright?"

"Oh…" he whimpered. "I forgot about…the b-bathtub."

"I can imagine," I said sympathetically. "Do you need some help?"

He nodded.

I thought for a moment. "You're wearing underwear under those jeans, right?"

"Uh-huh," he responded. He tucked his raccoon under his arm and unbuttoned his tattered jeans and slipped out of them, revealing a pair of boxers that were filthy, but at least they didn't look ready to fall off.

"Okay," I mumbled. I reached for his raccoon to set it down someplace safe, but Chuck whimpered and backed away.

"I'm not going to steal it," I assured. "I just want to set it down somewhere. I don't think it's a good idea to take it in the bathtub with you."

Chuck froze with his arm firmly around the raccoon. But when I reached hesitantly for it again, he made no attempt to keep it from me. He only gave me a nasty look as I set his toy on the floor right beside the tub.

"Her name is Maria," he grumbled.

I was somewhat taken aback. I didn't know, and probably wouldn't have guessed, that the raccoon doll was female. "Oh," I muttered. "That's a pretty name."

Chuck said nothing.

I glanced back at him and caught sight of his bandaged hand. "I might want to take this off, too." I took hold of his arm and he let me peel off the bandage I had wrapped it in the night before. I helped him step into the tub, but he quickly stepped backward and gasped.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "Too cold?"

"Too...hot," Chuck responded.

I sighed and turned the cold faucet on, letting the unheated water dominate the tub. I was a bit skeptical, as the tub was only lukewarm to begin with and the extra coldness made the bathwater quite chilly. But Chuck stepped in again and this time found it to his liking. He sunk into the water and hummed contentedly, but his expression seemed a bit nervous or uncertain. He kept glancing down at his raccoon on the floor.

I grabbed a washcloth and quickly went to work, scrubbing Chuck's arms and shoulders and revealing lighter skin underneath the layer of dirt. The thought of bathing a grown man was certainly enough to make me feel extremely awkward, but somehow I was able to convince myself that it wasn't that bad. I could tell Chuck was a Young Adult, but at the same time, he didn't really look like one. He acted like a child, and had the demeanor of one. His understanding of the world around him seemed limited to that of a very young Sim. He might have as well only been a Child Sim.

Once I felt like I had cleaned him sufficiently, I helped him out of the tub and unplugged the drain. I gave him a towel to dry himself with and made a quick trip to my room to search for some extra clothes. I opened my dresser and wondered if there was anything that would even fit Chuck. He was so small, so thin that his torn jeans were barely tight enough to stay on. I could only imagine his body was much thicker and better built before his life in the alley. Fortunately, I managed to find a t-shirt and a pair of jeans that looked small enough for him. I had worn them as a teenager, but found them too small after aging up several weeks before. I also took the smallest pair of boxers I could find, figuring I could go without them.

I returned to the bathroom and handed Chuck the assortment of clothes to put on. I left the bathroom for about a minute to allow him some privacy, but he was soon making audible, frightened noises. I opened the door again to the relief that he was fully-clothed, digging his fingers into the raccoon that was now back in his possession and pressed against his chest. I knew I had to at least try to do something about the tangled mess of red hair atop his head, so I grabbed a comb off the counter and worked it through his hair. Other than a loud yelp whenever I pulled too hard by accident, he stayed quiet.

I noticed Chuck's eyes were closed, and I wanted to see what he was thinking about. But it wasn't yet nighttime and I couldn't read his mind. All I could do was continue the tedious task of untangling his hair until it at least looked presentable. It wasn't perfect, and there were still a few knots in his hair, but I was getting tired of trying and set the comb down.

I stepped back and examined what I had done. He looked rather different now than he did an hour ago. He looked less like a stray animal off the street and more like a naïve and oblivious child. He didn't really look any closer to his apparent age, but he at least looked clean.

Suddenly, Chuck's stomach growled loudly. He gripped his abdomen and whined. I decided that we should get some food quickly, and I didn't want to keep him waiting too long.

"Would you be okay in a restaurant?" I asked him. But as soon as I said it, I regretted it. The last couple of times I gave him food, he devoured it like a starving dog. His behavior was anything but proper dining etiquette.

"Restaurant…" he echoed. "They have f-food there."

"They do," I said, uncertain. "Do you think you can handle that? That means eat your food slowly and don't make a scene. Act how you are acting now: calm and collected. You can bring Maria with you if you want."

Chuck buried his nose in his raccoon.

"Can you manage that?" I asked again.

He nodded.

"Come with me then," I instructed.

I led him out of the apartment and down the stairs and we both got into my car. I decided not to go to the café I worked at, which is where I usually went out to eat with Kai. Most of the Sims there knew me, and I was afraid they would question what Chuck was doing with me. Instead, I drove to Kim Gould's Steakhouse on the other side of the city. It was a longer drive, but very few people were familiar with me. It was even further from the alleyway I found Chuck in, so chances are they didn't know about the "alley kid" either.

Chuck was already starting to whimper when I took him into the restaurant. With a firm grasp of his shoulder, he glanced at me and seemed to remember what I had told him. He buried his nose in his raccoon again and seemed to calm down.

We were quickly seated and ordered our meals. Apparently Chuck was struggling with reading the menu, so I had to help him decipher what it said. He quickly settled on a hamburger while I decided to get a sandwich of some kind with plasma fruit in it. Normally I didn't eat plasma fruit, but that was all they had that would satisfy me, and it didn't taste quite as bad when mixed into a meal.

We ate in silence, carefully taking our time while we were there. I kept a close eye on Chuck to make sure he stayed collected and quiet. I could imagine he would wolf down his burger in one bite if he could, so I was proud of him for sticking to his good behavior even though it must have been difficult.

Chuck finished his food quickly and sat back contentedly. He looked sleepy as he hugged his raccoon to his stomach and stroked its back up and down. I could feel my powers returning as the night fell, so I decided to read Chuck's mind. I closed my eyes and focused hard, mentally searching for Chuck's brain. The image that appeared out of the darkness was of a woman with long, red hair reading out of a book. I felt a bed beneath me and heard the woman's voice, lulling like a soothing song, sending me off to sleep.

I broke the connection just in time to see the waitress deliver the check. I quickly paid for the meal and Chuck and I were on our way. Just as we got outside, my phone rang.

"One second, Chuck," I told him as I answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Steve, where the heck have you been?" Kai's voice emanated from the other end. "I've been trying to get a hold of you all day. I checked the café and you weren't there."

"I took the day off," I mumbled.

"You did _what_?" Kai laughed. "You _never_ take the day off!"

"Yeah, well, something came up at home and I couldn't make it to work," I explained. "What are you up to?"

"Lola and I are on our way to Plasma 501," Kai replied. "We were hoping you could come with us. I hear there are a bunch of celebrities there tonight. Big names, I'm telling you."

I became very excited. "I'll be there. Just give me about an hour. There's something I need to take care of first."

"Get there as fast as you can," Kai said before hanging up.

I put my phone away and got into the car, my nerves tingling with excitement. It had only been about a day or two since I had last been out with Kai, but it had been a very long time since we've seen many big name celebrities. Even going to a lounge with Lola was rare as she had a kid at home to look after, and it was always a thrill to be seen with the biggest celebrity in all of Bridgeport.

I hurried Chuck home and anxiously got into the elevator. When we reached my floor, I quickly unlocked the door and let Chuck inside. As worried as I was that I shouldn't leave him alone again, the outing with Kai was such a big deal for me. I just had to figure out a way to make it work.

To my relief, Chuck flopped exhausted onto the couch and seemed on the brink of sleep. I figured he would probably just sleep through my outing and not damage anymore of my apartment. Once I was sure he was peacefully asleep, I locked the door and rode the elevator back downstairs toward my car. I climbed into it and hastily rode it to Plasma 501, where I saw Kai waiting with his girlfriend near the entrance. I practically ran over to meet up with him.

"Steve!" Kai exclaimed, shaking my hand enthusiastically. "Glad you could finally make it."

"Me too," I admitted. "Are you guys ready?"

"We've been ready," Kai replied.

"Come on, boys," Lola called, already halfway in the door. "I'd like to make it inside before people start asking me for autographs."

The three of us made our way inside and approached the velvet rope. I caught a glint of admiration in the bouncer's eye when he saw that I was with Lola Belle. I felt like nothing short of a prodigy as I entered the lounge and found myself surrounded by celebrities of all statuses and professions. It gave me hope that I would soon work my way to the top, just as I had dreamed of when I first moved to Bridgeport.


	5. Questions and Accusations

**Chapter 5**

I lay in bed for several minutes after I awoke, sighing contentedly and feeling the softness of the bedsheets. I had cleaned them recently and it almost felt like sleeping on a cloud. Many people would think I was crazy for feeling this way, because they take things like this for granted. But I just couldn't sleep on an altar like a normal vampire. Something about a regular bed made me feel like I had one last piece of my mortal life; even just for a short time, it made me feel human. Feeling the softness of a human bed made me feel like I could open my eyes and my skin wouldn't be pale and shiny, my teeth wouldn't be pointed fangs, and the slight tingle of thirst at the back of my throat wouldn't exist.

As much as I loved being a vampire, if only for the incredible powers I possessed, there was always a small part of me that still wanted me to be human. It probably had to do with the fact that being a vampire, even in Bridgeport, made it difficult to get along with people. Most celebrities I knew weren't vampires, so they felt very nervous and weary of me before they got to know me. I always hated it when total strangers looked at me like I was a monster, even before they knew me.

After awhile, I decided I should go check on Chuck. I slithered out of bed and wandered into the living room, where he was still asleep on the couch. His arm hung limply over the edge and his raccoon had fallen onto the carpet. I carefully picked up the raccoon and set it on his stomach beside his other hand, which twitched on contact and slowly closed around the raccoon's leg.

I then decided to sit on the coffee table across from the couch and watch Chuck sleep. I had no idea why; there was something almost entertaining about it. I guess I was fascinated with how much more calm and peaceful he looked now than when he was dirty and shirtless. He was still worryingly thin, but at least with a shirt on I couldn't see his entire ribcage. I also planned to fatten him up with the food I got from the supermarket the night before, after having gone out to the lounge.

Sighing heavily, I stood up and made my way to the kitchen to prepare some breakfast. I knew Chuck would want something to eat when he awoke, so I picked out an apple and began preparing some pancakes. It had been awhile since I had to prepare a dish at home, but pancakes were easy to make and I knew exactly what to do. I mixed together the ingredients and poured the batter into a pan, then spent the next several minutes preparing a plate of freshly cooked pancakes. Just as I had finished and set the plate on the counter, I spotted Chuck in the doorway. One hand held his raccoon while the other rubbed sleep from his eyes.

"Hey," I greeted. "I made you some pancakes."

Chuck's face was expressionless, but I could see a trickle of drool escape his mouth. I set a plate of pancakes onto the table for him and he gratefully sat down to eat. I grabbed a can of plasma juice for myself and sat beside him.

"Eat slowly," I reminded him. "You don't want to upset your stomach."

But Chuck finished his pancakes quickly and sat there quietly, hugging his raccoon to his stomach. After a few moments, he spoke up. "I had a…a dream last night."

"Really?" I said, slightly intrigued. "What kind of dream?"

"A g-good one," he answered. "I was…I was riding Darius through a…a field."

"Who's Darius?" I asked. The name seemed familiar somehow.

"The unicorn," Chuck replied. "M-My unicorn. I c-can't find him anywhere. But in…But in my dreams, he c-comes back."

I suddenly remembered when I read Chuck's mind while he was sleeping and I saw the unicorn run down a hill. And I heard him address it as Darius. But something about what Chuck said was a bit confusing. "What do you mean you can't find him? He's in your dreams, isn't he?"

"I used to…to see him in real life," Chuck clarified. "But…But then I didn't see him anymore. I hope nothing…b-bad happened to him."

"I'm sure he's fine," I reassured. I didn't know quite what he was talking about, but he couldn't have been talking about a real unicorn. Perhaps he owned a horse at one point and pretended it was a unicorn. But if it was a real horse, I wished I could take back what I just said. I didn't know this horse and I certainly didn't know its living condition. I could have been very wrong. "Where did you see him last?"

"The waterfall," Chuck replied. "I saw him every…every night f-for so long…" He gulped. "And then my…my mother died, and my father…" He gripped his raccoon tightly, clawing at the fabric with bony hands.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I whispered, somewhat shocked by what I heard. "You don't have to talk about it if it's too painful. I was just curious about the unicorn."

Chuck said nothing, but rather tightened his grip on the raccoon and crossed his legs. "I have to pee."

"Use the toilet," I reminded him.

Chuck got up and exited the kitchen, heading for the bathroom. I cleaned up the kitchen of plates and leftovers just before I heard a knock on my door.

"Hey, Steve! Can I come in?"

I tensed up. It was Kai.

"I know you're in there, buddy. I can see your car parked out front."

Kai couldn't have picked a worse time to try and contact me. I weighed my options on how to keep him away from Chuck, but he continued to pound on the door and I didn't have much in the way of choices. After some consideration, I reluctantly went to open the door and found myself face-to-face with my friend.

"Hey," I greeted. "What are you doing here? It's kind of early, isn't it?"

"Lola's off doing celebrity stuff and I'm bored," Kai explained. "Besides, I've visited you at earlier hours. Why, am I interrupting something?"

"Well…" I hesitated.

Suddenly, Kai glanced over my shoulder and into the room. "Hey, who's that?"

I whirled around to see Chuck standing in the middle of the living room, frozen in his tracks. My breathing became uneven as I searched for an answer.

"Wait a minute…" Kai's eyes widened and a strange smile stretched across his face. He walked over to Chuck and studied his face. Chuck backed away in fear. "Is this the alley kid?"

"Uhm…" I stuttered.

Kai chuckled. "My gosh, you _are_ the alley kid! What are you doing here?" Before Chuck could answer, Kai looked down at the raccoon doll bound tightly in Chuck's nervous grasp. "Oh, whatcha got there?" he asked, grabbing the raccoon by the head and studying it for a second. Chuck screamed and thrashed until Kai let go, then ducked behind the couch.

"Knock it off, Kai," I ordered. "You're scaring him."

"Okay," Kai complied, flopping onto the couch and turning to me. "Would you care to explain to me what the alley kid is doing in your apartment?"

"I couldn't just leave him out there," I protested, seating myself next to him. "Look, it's just temporary, okay? I'll help him get up on his feet and find him a nice place to live. Can you please keep this a secret? If the press finds out about this, I don't know what will happen."

"I'll keep it a secret," Kai promised. "But I can't guarantee the press won't find out anyway. You're taking a risk, you know."

"I know," I mumbled. "I just…I couldn't let someone as young as him starve to death in the streets."

"What do you mean, young?" he asked. "He's got to be the same age as us."

"He acts like a child," I explained.

"So maybe he's Childish," Kai suggested.

"You don't understand," I told him. "I've read his thoughts. I know what he's been through. His mother is dead and his father was abusive. For all I know, he didn't have a childhood, so he's living it now."

Kai scoffed. "That explains that little toy of his."

"Just promise me you can keep all of this a secret," I repeated. "Don't tell anyone, not even Lola."

"I told you I would," he said sincerely. "But…I've never known anyone to willingly take in some bum from the streets."

"No one…?" I echoed, extremely nervous. "But there has to be more besides Chuck. Are you seriously telling me that no one else tries to lend a helping hand?"

"Celebrities don't really work that way," Kai explained. "They don't even notice these kinds of people half the time. It's kinda hard to see much through the wall of paparazzi that surrounds them every time they set one foot out the door. On top of that, the world of glamour and the world of poverty just don't mix. Celebrities in the spotlight are much easier to see than homeless Sims in the shadows."

"What if they knew?" I asked.

Kai bit his lip. "Honestly, it would probably be the same. But then again, I wouldn't know for sure."

I sighed heavily. "I just don't know what I'm gonna do with him."

"If I were you," Kai started. "I would end this whole thing as soon as possible. I don't know what keeping some homeless nutball from the streets in your apartment is going to do to your reputation."

"He's not a nutball!" I defied. "He's tortured and needs help."

"That's not what the press is going to see," Kai said. "What they're going to see is a vampire holding a mentally retarded Sim hostage."

I heard Chuck spring up from behind the couch, whimpering and dashing for the bedroom.

"Chuck, wait!" I called. I turned to Kai. "No need to be such a jerk about it."

"I didn't mean it like that," he explained, almost gruffly. "I just said that's what the press will see. It doesn't mean any of that is true."

I sighed and got up off the couch, then wandered into my bedroom, where Chuck was curled into a tight ball on top of my bed. "Chuck?"

Chuck sat motionless, staring at the wall ahead of him, similar to how I found him in the alley.

"Kai didn't mean it," I assured. "Nothing he said about you is true."

"Yes it is," he argued.

"Chuck…" I sighed. "You're not retarded. You're just troubled. I know what you went through. I'm surprised you made it this far in spite of your childhood."

Chuck said nothing.

"You're improving, too," I continued. "You've opened up to me so much the last few days. You've shown you can learn to trust people even after what your father did to you."

"I'm stupid," Chuck mumbled.

"Cut it out!" I ordered. "You're not stupid. You've been abused and abandoned to cope with it on your own. That's not your fault. You're not the stupid one."

Suddenly, Kai came down the hall. "Steve, Lola just called. She wants me to meet her at the bistro. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Sure," I responded.

And with that, Kai strode out of the hallway and left out the front door. I turned back to Chuck, who was still frozen and staring at the wall. I closed my eyes and mentally focused on him, trying to reach his mind. When my brain made the connection to Chuck's, I tried to find an image in the darkness, but I saw nothing. There was nothing visual happening in Chuck's head, but I did hear a repeated echo of Kai's words.

_Homeless nutball…mentally retarded…homeless nutball…mentally retarded…_

I groaned and broke the connection, one hand clawing at my head as I left the bedroom and entered the kitchen. My head was spinning and my eyes were watering. Chuck wasn't stupid; I knew for a fact that he wasn't. But how many people thought he was? What if I was the first person he'd ever met during his life on the streets that actually cared about him in the slightest? What if his mother was the only person before me? Furthermore, _why_ did I care about him? Most celebrities probably kicked dirt in his face and told him to get a job, or thought he was too stupid to do so. I saw him in the streets and couldn't say no, couldn't leave him there to die. But what provoked me? Even then it was a mystery, and it was almost haunting now. He fascinated me in ways that I couldn't even begin to comprehend, and in my near hundred years on the face of this planet, I had never encountered this feeling until I met Chuck.

After awhile, I was pulled out of my contemplation when I heard Chuck rummaging around in the living room. But I was slightly worried by how noisy he was being and decided to check it out. I spotted him circling the couch on all fours, apparently looking for something. But I caught sight of his expression and became even more startled by how upset he looked.

"Chuck? Is everything alright?" I asked.

Chuck stared up at me, his eyes terrified and sweat tricking down his face. "Maria. She's…she's gone."


	6. A Surfaced Truth

**Chapter 6**

I thoroughly checked my entire apartment and under every crevice where I had seen Chuck lingering nearby. I started with the bedroom, wondering if he had lost his raccoon in my bedsheets. But even tearing them off the bed completely didn't make the little raccoon appear. I checked under the bed, but nothing but dust bunnies inhabited the dark cave. I picked up the pace as I heard Chuck's cries grow steadily more and more psychotic, crawling across my bedroom floor and checking under everything in hopes of finding the raccoon.

I last remembered Chuck holding his raccoon when Kai approached him and he ducked behind the couch. I wandered over to the sofa in the living room and checked it carefully, scanning for any signs of worn grey fur. After I failed to find it there, I wondered if he possibly dropped it when he ran to my bedroom, but before I could check there, Chuck flipped out.

Chuck had been whining loudly my entire search, but practically out of nowhere he began screaming bloody murder. A freezing chill ran down my spine and I ran to try and calm him down. His shrieks were so shrill that I was afraid someone who lived nearby would call the cops. I found him on the floor, flailing around like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"Chuck!" I barked. "Calm down!" When Chuck continued to scream, I grabbed both his arms and tried to restrain him, but then quickly moved one hand from his arm to his mouth. I held him firm if not somewhat harshly, my fingers stretching across his jaw. Hot tears painted his face, and I had a feeling he was having another vision of his father. I closed my eyes and focused hard on his mind, and it didn't take long before another disturbing image came out of the darkness.

"What the hell is this?" a familiar, scary-looking man asked as he held the raccoon.

"Leave her alone!" Chuck pleaded. "Give her back!" He lunged for his father and grabbed him by the shirt, reaching for the raccoon that his father purposely held out of reach.

The man grabbed him by the neck and threw him backward. Chuck landed and banged his head against the wall. I could hear him crying.

"Do as I say and we won't have trouble," the man said. But the way he said it was so chilling, so dark and evil. He sounded ready to murder Chuck.

I blinked and my vision transitioned back to reality. Chuck continued to whimper and squirm beneath me.

"Chuck…" I whispered, my voice softer. "Look at me."

He didn't even seem to hear me.

"Look at me, Chuck," I repeated. "Come back to me." I turned his head so that he faced me but his eyes were still clouded. "Your father's not here. You're safe."

Chuck froze suddenly, as if he had been turned to stone.

"I'm not going to hurt you," I promised. "But I need you to stay here."

When I removed my hand from Chuck's face and let go of his arm, I sat next to him as his body slowly melted into the carpet. He looked at me with large, confused eyes.

"She'll turn up eventually," I assured.

Chuck shook his head. "No…no…"

"Sure she will," I said. "She has to be around here somewhere."

Chuck cringed hard and shook his head again, then turned away from me and curled into the fetal position with his hands over his head. I heard him uttering something along the lines of: "It's just a toy, Chuck. It's not real. It's a stupid toy."

The way he said it didn't sound like he was trying to convince or reassure himself of anything. His tone of voice sounded frighteningly similar to his father's voice, and I wondered if he was having another episode. "Chuck…"

"IT'S A DAMN TOY, CHUCK!" he barked. His outburst was quickly followed by rapid sobbing and whimpering.

"Easy, easy," I whispered, stroking his arm. Chuck didn't say anything, and he appeared to still be trapped in the episode. "Chuck, please come back. I don't like it when you shut me out like this."

He seemed to not even hear me. I sighed deeply and stared down at my lap, unwilling to do anything else. I sat there and listened to Chuck's whimpering and disturbing muttering for what felt like an eternity.

…

I was awakened in the middle of the night when I heard what sounded like a loud bang. But the virtual silence afterward made me wonder for a moment if it was a noise from my dreams. I rolled over and tried to return to sleep, managing to nearly fall back into slumber. Suddenly, my bedroom door was thrown open and made a terrifyingly loud noise in the otherwise silent room. I was shaken fully awake and nearly wet myself at the sheer suddenness of what had happened. Before I could fully process what was going on, I felt the bedsheets being tugged off of me. I dared not turn around for fear of what was happening, and I nearly bolted when I felt the opposite side of the mattress sink behind me. I felt a pair of long, bony hands grab my arm and begin shaking me.

"Steve! Steve!"

I recognized Chuck's terrified voice in the midst of my confusion. It felt slightly odd to hear my name coming from Chuck, but it suddenly occurred to me that he had never said my name before. I was almost starting to think he forgot it.

After I took a moment to recompose, I inhaled sharply and reached over to turn on the bedside lamp. I saw Chuck in the dim light, his eyes shiny and his face ridden with streaks of tears. He looked like he had just seen a monster—his eyes were wide with terror and his skin was a pale shade of green.

"Chuck, what's wrong?" I asked, although I began to have a pretty good idea.

Chuck shook his head violently, then leaned forward so that it collided with my chest. I grunted slightly on impact, but quickly gasped when Chuck climbed into my lap and grabbed my shirt on either side, clutching it tightly and sobbing against me. Although I had endured so many of his emotional breakdowns and scary visions, I had never seen him so broken. It was rather scary to watch.

"T-Too much…" he blubbered. "It's…to…m-much…"

I lay my hands on either side of him, which was still bumpy with protruding ribs. "Chuck, I'm going to need you to calm down. Breathe slowly."

I could tell he was trying to obey, but he struggled as every other urge inside of him only wanted him to cry harder.

"Breathe slowly," I repeated. "Follow my breathing." I breathed slowly and loudly, trying to guide him. It seemed to help him a bit, as he found it less difficult to ease himself out of his episode. "That's it. Just like that. You're doing good."

I felt his chest beneath my hands move more gracefully as we breathed in sync, not speaking for several moments until Chuck was finally calm.

"Can you tell me about it?" I asked.

Chuck sniffled. "N-Nightmare…"

Chuck's breathing became uneven again, but he didn't resume freaking out. He did, however, press his cheek against my shoulder and bind his arms around me. I couldn't help but blow out a contented sigh. Chuck was unbelievably warm, and while I was supposed to feel sorry for him because of whatever frightened him, my senses were mostly overtaken by how amazing his warmth felt. I had never been this enveloped in it, and it was such a new sensation that I nearly lost my train of thought. But there was a new feeling there—one that was so new, so unfamiliar that it scared me. No, it wasn't new. It had always been there, nestled in my subconscious, and it took me until now to notice it. But it was still scary, and I had no idea whether or not to act on it. I was afraid of how Chuck would react.

"What…kind of…of nightmare?" I finally asked, suddenly finding it difficult to form words.

"My f-father was there…" Chuck started. "And he…he killed you."

"K-Killed…me?"

"…And I saw…I saw your body. And plasma was c-coming out of…out of your mouth. And I told you to wake up, but…" He hiccupped and sounded ready to cry again. "…But you wouldn't wake up." He broke down right then and there, ruining my shirt with his profuse tears.

"Well I woke up this time, didn't I?" I whispered.

Chuck inhaled deeply, blubbering over another fit of sobs. "I don't…want you to d-die, Steve… I don't want…want you to…to die!"

"But I'm not dead, see?" I told him. "I'm fine."

Chuck continued to cry, rocking both his chest and mine with his loud sobbing. "It was…sc-scary…"

"Shh," I whispered. My shaky arms enveloped his tiny body, trying to hold him steady. This is when I lost it.

I didn't even realize what I did until it was too late. I was completely unaware of my body's uncontrolled actions until I felt Chuck's forehead firmly placed against my lips, and I pulled away to render a soft smack. I felt Chuck freeze in my grasp, and I had no idea if his response was good or bad. After a moment of stunned silence, Chuck raised a shaky hand to the spot where I had kissed him, and he leaned backward to look at me with wide eyes. As shocked as I was myself, my expression surprisingly stayed blank, as if my body had formed a mind of its own and overtaken me, and it had no regrets about what it was doing. Chuck's lips quivered, and he barely managed to form a sentence just loud enough for me to hear.

"Do that again…"

Without even a chance to restrain my instinctual urges, I grabbed Chuck's jaw and pulled him into a deep and passionate kiss that lasted nearly five seconds. I was flabbergasted by what I was doing, but something about Chuck's lips against mine felt too damn good…

Chuck fell limp in my arms and began shivering. He clung to me like I was his lifeline, and I was barely allowed enough flexibility to reach for the bedsheets and pull them over me and Chuck. I had to strain my arm to turn off the lamp.

"It's okay," I whispered. "I gotcha."

Chuck grunted. It was nothing more than a tiny, barely audible happy noise vibrating in his throat. His breathing became shallow as he drifted further into sleep, and all I could focus on was this incredible warmth that I felt surrounding my body. It was an amazing feeling, too incredible for words. This warmth…I hadn't felt anything like this since I was a human, capable of generating my own body heat.

After a few short moments, I fell asleep beside Chuck with a smile on my face.


	7. Emotional Trainwreck

I awoke the next morning to a pair of pleasantly warm, bony arms binding my chest. Chuck was pressed tightly against me, and I could feel hot wisps of his gentle breath brushing my shoulder. I couldn't remember the last time I felt so comfortably warm, if ever. This was beyond feeling human again; this was something entirely new and unlike anything I've experienced before. I wanted to stay there forever, but my thirst got the best of me.

I tried to gently wriggle out of Chuck's embrace, though it proved a challenge as he held me tightly. I began to carefully pry his fingers from my shirt, but they tightened and he quickly pulled me back against him. When he emitted a breathy grunt, I knew I had woken him up.

I squirmed in the boy's grip until I had turned around enough to see him. He was breathing unevenly now through his teeth, and he drove half his face deeply into my chest. To my surprise, he seemed upset.

"Hey, are you okay?" I whispered, grazing his messy red hair with my fingertips.

A quiet moan rippled in his throat, as if he were in pain. He curled against me and sobbed softly, whispering: "Mama…why can't you get up? No…Mama…I wanna see Darius. Take me to see Darius." There was a long pause before Chuck began to shiver, causing my body to vibrate. "Mama…wake up…"

He was having another episode, but this one was different. It wasn't violent and fearful—it was forlorn and tragic. And I was sure that I was hearing a memory of his mother's death. It never occurred to me that Chuck actually witnessed his mother dying, and the very thought frightened me. I never even heard how she died, or how old he was when it happened.

"Don't go, don't go…" Chuck fidgeted as he cried into my shirt, and I couldn't tell if he was talking to me or if he still trapped in the memory.

"Chuck, I'm right here," I whispered reassuringly.

He craned his head slowly to look at me, his eyes dull and flooded with tears. "Don't go."

"I'm thirsty," I explained. "I need to go to the kitchen and get some plasma juice. You can come with me, if you want."

Chuck shot me a curious glance, then eased his way to a sitting position atop the bed, but he didn't let go of me. His head drooped and his cheeks became filled with a pinkish tone, as if he suddenly became shy. As surprisingly adorable as it was, I had no idea what was on his mind or what he was trying to do. But then he balled his fists around wads of fabric in my shirt and began fidgeting with them. Just as he did this, he muttered in a barely audible whisper: "You can…you can d-drink from…m-me."

I frowned at the sudden idea. "Huh? Drink from _you_? Are you sure?"

"Please," he begged, tugging at my shirt.

"Easy, easy," I said, wrapping my hands around his and urging his fists off my shirt.

Chuck loosened his grip and released my shirt with ease once I had a firm hold on him. But then he yanked one hand free and brought it up to my face. His frail fingers grazed my cheek before his thumb penetrated my lips and slipped inside my mouth. I was frozen with confusion as Chuck rubbed his thumb across my teeth, and then he slowly closed his grip around my cheek and pulled me toward him. This is when I regained enough of my senses to grab his wrist and put an end to his actions. He seemed perplexingly eager to offer me his nutrients, and I wanted to oppose out of fear of hurting him. But how could I say no? I hadn't fed off of a Sim in awhile, and the packs of plasma juice were beginning to taste rather gross.

"You're _really_ sure about this, huh?"

When Chuck nodded quickly, I shrugged off my confusion and leaned in, pulling his shirt collar to the side. I could hear him exhale against my ear, and he sounded so contented. I decided that if I did it quickly that it would be less painful, so I plunged my fangs into his neck and drank quickly. I was taken aback yet again by how delicious his plasma tasted—it was so sweet with a much more vibrant flavor than anyone else who had offered themselves to me. However, I was able to keep my common sense just enough to know when enough was enough. Chuck was breathing rapidly the entire time, so I detached from him the second I had finished.

I leaned back with content, having not been so satisfied after a feeding in a long time. "Man, that's good. Thanks, Chuck."

Chuck stared at me expectantly, as if he wanted me to do something, and then his stomach growled.

I stretched slowly and rolled out of bed. "Come on," I told Chuck. "Let's get you some breakfast."

Chuck scrambled out of the bedsheets and followed close behind me. I led him to the kitchen and opened up the fridge. There were still some leftover pancakes from the previous morning, so I set them on the table for him.

As Chuck wolfed down his breakfast, I took notice of the clock. My heartbeat quickened when I realized how late it was, and that I was supposed to return to work after my extended weekend. My boss had told me to take as much time as I needed, but I couldn't bear to miss another day of work. Being a Workaholic and everything, it was hard on my nerves when I missed work.

"Oh man," I muttered. "Chuck, I have to go to work."

"Huh?" Chuck squeaked.

I had already made my way down the hall and began throwing my pajamas off to get dressed into my chef's uniform. Chuck dashed after me and leaned against the doorframe, confused and frightened.

"Don't worry," I said quickly, making my way to the door. "I'll only be gone a few hours."

"No…" Chuck began to whimper. "Maria…she's gone! Where's Maria?"

I inhaled sharply. As much as it pained me to hear Chuck regressing back into his dark thoughts, I had no time to help him at that time. I was going to be late for work as was, and I had to think of something quick. I gently took hold of Chuck's arms and tried to comfort him. "Hey, it's okay. Maria will turn up eventually. Maybe you can look for her while I'm gone."

Chuck didn't even seem to hear me. "Mama…wake up…Father, she won't wake up…"

I sighed, then wrapped my arms around him in a gentle embrace. "Please don't shut me out like this."

"Don't go…" he squeaked, about to cry.

"It's just for a few hours," I reassured. "Look…" I detached myself from him and grabbed the remote off the coffee table, flicking on the TV. "Why don't you watch some TV until I get back?"

I felt like I had no time for a response, so I set him down on the couch and hurried out the door. In retrospect, it probably would have been less of a hassle to just take Chuck with me. It was clear that he didn't want me to leave him by himself, and I was expecting to return home to a destroyed apartment like the first time. But at the time, I couldn't think of a plan fast enough. I didn't know what I'd do with Chuck at work—I couldn't let him hang out in the kitchen, and I didn't think it was a good idea to keep him in the restaurant for that long to begin with. I couldn't imagine what would happen if he came into contact with total strangers, and what Kai had said the day before secretly frightened me. What if the media _was_ a huge issue? Would Chuck be at risk? Would it really ruin the reputation that I had built up for so long?

These fears are what kept me from taking Chuck with me. When I finally did arrive at work, I apologized for being late and rushed to work in the kitchen. The entire time I was in a daze, my movements frantic as I tried to cook the dishes fast enough that I might catch a break to get my thoughts in order. But alas, it was a busy day at the restaurant and the orders piled up behind my back. As the day wore on, I grew steadily more panicked, and I wanted more than anything to return home to Chuck.

I can't really explain it, but whenever I was away from Chuck, I always became so nervous. I thought about him constantly, trying to battle these confusing feelings that only seemed to float to the surface when he wasn't around. It was almost as if Chuck was becoming a biological need, or an addiction of some kind. Sometimes I wondered if he felt the same way, and therefore he was reluctant to be separated from me.

The minute my shift was over, I rushed out the door. By this point I felt incredibly antsy, and all I wanted to do was to go home. When I exited the restaurant, I saw Kai sprawled across the bench as usual, his bare feet propped up on the armrest.

"Steve!" he barked. "Back at work, I see."

"Yeah…" I muttered.

"Did you finally get rid of the alley kid?" he asked.

I became irritated. "He has a name, you know."

"Well, did you?" he asked, pretty much ignoring me.

"Ugh," I snarled. "You're being such a jerk, you know that? Ever since I first took him in, all you've done is basically ask me to get rid of him."

"I'm trying to look out for you," he protested, standing up from the bench. "I worry for your reputation."

"Why?" I demanded. "What business is it of yours?"

"You're my friend," he said. "I try to look out for you."

"Well, I try to look out for the 'alley kid,'" I retorted. "What about him? Does he just not matter?"

"I never said that," he argued.

"That's been your entire attitude the past few days," I complained. "Can't you have some sympathy? Can't you understand what he's been through in life?"

He sighed. "I want to understand, Steve. I really do. But if the media gets—"

"Screw the media!" I barked. "We're talking about Chuck here. He witnessed his mother's death, his father was abusive, and he's lived on the streets for years without so much as an optimistic look directed toward him. I'm probably a godsend to him at this point. And if you take one look at a Sim whose life was filled with nothing but trauma and rush to call him mentally retarded, then I'm not the one here who needs to worry about his reputation."

Kai fell silent, his face expressionless. I angrily turned around and got into my car, then sped off into the night.

When I opened my apartment door, everything was eerily quiet except for the TV, which had been left on. I wandered into the room, but Chuck was nowhere in plain sight. However, as I wandered deeper inside, I spotted him. The window was wide open, and he sat perched on the sill. My heart dropped like a rock. I knew he was going to jump, to plummet twenty-two stories to his death.

He slipped. I screamed.


	8. A Beautiful Discovery

It took several minutes for time to catch up to me. It felt as if everything played out in slow motion, and I mentally struggled to register what had happened. It was as if I had blacked out, but my memory was returning, though at an agonizingly slow rate. However, I was partially aware of what was happening in real time. I was seated on the floor, crying deeply—I couldn't remember the last time I had cried so much—and I was holding him. I held him tightly to me, begging whatever god there was out there to not take him from me. I refused to let him leave me, demanded to nothing to keep him here.

I felt that warm body. I loved that feeling. I didn't want it to grow cold, like me. I could hear a voice echoing in the background, but the only clear sensations I recognized were my own crying and his warmth. I was in a strange state, blinded by the scene as it replayed before me, and at the same time I was trying to keep him alive by crying. I was trying to focus on two things at once, trying to make sense of them and find a link.

My vision cleared, and time caught up with me. Through the blur of my flooded eyes, I saw my hands as they held the warm body for dear life. I saw a pair of deep, dark eyes, and a pair of lips that emitted a voice. I noticed that we were still in my apartment, on the carpet next to the window, and suddenly everything made sense. He slipped, I screamed. I lunged and grabbed him. I yanked him back inside before he could slip from my grip. I set him on the floor and bound him there.

I saved him.

I then realized that the echoing voice was Chuck's. Soon enough, I could hear what he was saying. "Steve, come back to me. Don't shut me out like this…please…"

He was imitating me. Was I having an episode, similar to what Chuck occasionally had? Or had he just seen it that way? I saw that he was crying too, and he was clearly extremely scared. But in my state of lingering shock, all I could muster past my lips was: "…Why?"

He sobbed loudly and shook his head.

I gave him a firm jerk, then asked again, this time louder. "WHY?"

"I was scared," he whimpered. "I…I didn't r-realize…" He paused for a moment. "I d-didn't realize what I was d-doing."

"You didn't realize!" I barked. "You almost killed yourself!" I broke down in that instant, leaning into his shoulder as more tears drenched my face. "Chuck…I couldn't live with myself if you…" I choked.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered, sniffling. "I d-didn't mean…mean it."

"Why?" I repeated, desperately needing to know.

"When you're n-not here…I see things," he explained. "I g-get sc-scared."

I looked up at him silently.

"It was the…only way out," he continued, staring at the window. "Only way out from…the…the nightmares."

"Only when I'm not around?" I asked.

"That's when it…when it gets real bad," he explained. "B-But you're here now. The n-nightmares are g-gone."

I stayed silent, taking it all in. He strained his neck to peer out the window, but I held him firm.

"I wanna see," he protested. "But can you…can you…" I heard him swallow hard. "Can you hold me? So I don't fall out?"

"Sure thing," I said quickly, not hesitating on the idea to hold that warm body close to me. I pushed myself to a stand and pulled him up by his wrists, then wrapped my arms around his tiny frame and absorbed as much of his heat as possible. Both our eyes focused out the window. "It really is pretty."

"Mm-hmm," Chuck agreed. "My mother called it stars on Earth."

I assumed he was referring to the many tiny lights shining in the millions of windows across the cityscape. I sighed and rested my chin on his shoulder. "What was your mother like?"

"Nice," he said.

"Just…nice?" I asked.

"Like you," he added.

My stomach fluttered. I hummed contentedly, and buried my face in his neck. I could feel his breathing accelerate eagerly, and he craned his neck back. When I rested my chin back on his shoulder, he sighed.

"What did she look like?" I asked curiously.

"Red hair," he explained. "Like mine, but longer."

I suddenly remembered tracing one of Chuck's flashbacks and seeing a beautiful woman with Chuck's flowing red hair, which draped down past her shoulders. That must have been her.

"She gave me Maria," he explained further.

"Oh," I said, my eyebrows raised. It suddenly explained a lot about his attachment to the raccoon. "Well, I'll tell you what: we _will_ find Maria. I promise you that."

Chuck bit his lip, refocusing his attention to the nighttime scenery. After a moment of silence, he yawned.

"Ready for bed?" I asked.

He rubbed his eyes and nodded. I let go of him and shut the window, then led him over to the couch. But rather than crash on it like he usually did, this time he stood there and gave me a disgusted look.

I had a gut-tingling feeling that I knew what was on his mind. "Oh, I guess you'd rather sleep with me?"

Chuck's face lifted and he nodded. I took his hand and led him again into my room. While I changed into my pajamas, Chuck made himself comfortable in my bed. Just as I lay beside him, he asked a bizarre question.

"Is this love?" he asked.

I stared at him for several seconds. Despite the confusing labyrinth of my emotions, I had never thought of it that way. "Love?"

"I loved my mother," he explained as he fidgeted shyly with the bedsheets in a familiar manner. "And she loved me. That's why she kissed me."

An overwhelming sense of realization dawned on me. I couldn't believe it took me all day to figure it out. "Wait a second…is that what was up with you this morning? You wanted me to kiss you again?"

"I was confused," Chuck murmured. "Does it mean…" He blushed. "Does it mean you love me?"

I beamed. My stomach felt full of butterflies, and my body felt lighter than air. Though it wasn't a crystal-clear answer, it was the closest answer I could come to. I placed my hand behind his neck and urged him closer to me. "Of course I love you. I love you so much…"

He placed his hands behind my back, handling me much more gently than he had that morning. "I love you, too…"

I wanted to kiss him everywhere. I kissed his eyebrow, his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, and finally his lips. When my lips touched his, he quickly reciprocated, holding me tighter. I cradled his head in my hands, feeling his hair as I kissed him. It was so soft and silky, very different from its dirty, matted state from when I first found him.

Chuck's lips quivered against mine, as if he was trying to say something, and he pulled away from me far enough to look at me. His expression was both nervous and sad, and he gazed at me with what I could only describe as puppy dog eyes. His lips closed tightly, and he swallowed, as if pushing back another wave of depression.

"Are you alright?" I asked gently.

"You make the nightmares go away," he whispered. "You keep them away…you can't…you can't leave…"

"Chuck, I'm right here," I assured.

Chuck shook his head. "You left. You were gone for so long…The voice said you wouldn't come back."

I frowned. "What voice?"

"The voice is in my head," he said shakily. "He said you wouldn't come back. And I saw my father. He…He chased me out the window." He curled against me, terrified. "You weren't there, and…I almost…I almost died."

I had a feeling that what had happened was finally sinking in, and not lightly, either. "I'm really sorry, Chuck. I would have stayed home with you if I had the ability, but I have to go to work." I sighed. "I guess I'll have to take you with me to the restaurant, though I don't know how that'll play out."

Chuck shook his head again, muttering: "Don't go…don't go…don't go…"

I sighed, then sat up slightly and gently lifted Chuck until he was sitting in my lap. I held his arms firm and tried to snap him out of it. "Chuck, look at me. Look at my eyes, Chuck." He appeared to be struggling to collect himself, and I patiently waited until he was able to look at me before speaking again. "Listen, I don't want you to think about what could have happened, okay? There's no need to scare yourself. I'm here now, and that's all that matters."

"But tomorrow, you're gonna—"

"Don't think about tomorrow," I said. "Don't think about the window, don't think about the nightmares, don't think about tomorrow. I want you to look at me and know in your heart that everything will be okay." My voice lowered slowly to a whisper. "Look at me until I am all you see. Let me take over your thoughts so I can wash those nightmares away. I'll do all the work; you sit back and enjoy the ride."

What I said seemed to help. Chuck was visibly relaxed—his eyes were closed and his muscles melted. I leaned forward and, again, I kissed his forehead, his eyebrow, his nose, his cheeks. But instead of moving to his lips, I continued downward to his chin, his jaw, his neck, and his collarbone. I arched my neck to plant the final kiss on his chest, right over his beating heart. Just then I felt Chuck's nose in my hair, and his slender hands locked over the back of my neck. He held me there, embracing my head in a similar manner in which I've seen him hold Maria. I felt his soothingly warm breath soak through my hair, and his heartbeat was a lullaby to my ears—thump after rhythmic thump. It was somewhat tragic to think that I almost lost this. I almost lost his heartbeat before I knew how beautiful it sounded. I sighed contentedly, then began stroking his thighs. He snuggled my hair in response.

"You're so warm," I whispered. I lifted my head to his shoulder, but allowed him to keep his grip on the back of my neck. I bound his midsection tightly in my arms and pulled him closer.

"You're cool," he said, adjusting himself on my lap so that our torsos were touching.

"Too cold?" I asked, pulling back to face him.

Chuck shook his head. "No…I like it. It's like…when my mother took me to the pool. The water was cold, but…it was so fun."

"So, I'm like pool water?" I said jokingly.

Chuck's breath became shaky, and his chest bounced slightly in my grasp. It almost sounded like he was crying again, and I was quickly struck with worry—had what I said made him upset? But when he lifted his head to look at me, there were no tears in his eyes, or even a thin trace of sadness. His lips were stretched into a childish grin, and my stomach fluttered crazily when I realized that he was actually laughing.

Taken by surprise, I placed a curled finger under his jaw and beamed in response. "Finally, you smile!"

He looked away from me, but continued to smile as his face grew warmer.

"I've never felt this good," he muttered. "I feel so safe. So…happy."

"I told you I'd wash those nightmares away," I said. I lifted him again and set him down on the bed beside me, then pulled the covers over both of us. I reached over to switch off the lamp, then we adjusted until we were comfortable.

"I'll dream about you," Chuck whispered through the darkness.

I reached in his direction until I felt his head, then I kissed him one last time on the forehead. "And I'll dream about you, too. The longer we sleep, the better our dreams will be."

We were asleep within minutes.


	9. A Brighter Future

The next morning, I made a risky decision—I took Chuck to work with me. I didn't want to have to do it, but I couldn't leave him home alone again. Not after he almost killed himself.

When we arrived at the restaurant, I instructed him to sit at the table in the corner and behave himself. I was unsure how much he would be able to hold up his promise without Maria, but he did surprisingly well. One of my coworkers, a waitress, offered to keep an eye on him as she made her rounds. How sweet she was—she wasn't involved in the celebrity mindset, and she hadn't even heard of the "alley kid," so she showed him no distain. She told me every time she came back that he sat quietly and mumbled to himself, refraining from bothering anyone. I wondered if knowing that I was just over in the next room was enough to keep him calm. At the end of the day when I was finished, I told him he had done a wonderful job, then I took him home to reward him with kisses and cuddles in bed.

This became routine. I took him to work with me every day and had him sit in the corner—my boss didn't seem to mind much, as long as he didn't disrupt the customers. He never did though; he was never comfortable approaching people he didn't know, and I think he was just waiting for me the entire time. The waitress always told me that he was mumbling to himself, though I could never figure out why.

Late one night after work, I sat slumped on the couch in front of the TV. I was a bit more physically drained than usual, but I wasn't quite ready for bed. I spotted Chuck crawling over to me on his hands and knees before resting his head in my lap like an attention-seeking dog.

"What's up?" I greeted.

"I still can't find her," Chuck moped.

I sighed and lightly petted his hair. "I'm sure she'll turn up eventually."

Chuck groaned quietly and climbed into my lap. I wrapped my arms around his waist, trying to comfort him. He rested his head on my shoulder sleepily.

"I miss Maria," he whispered.

"I know," I sighed. "I'm trying all I can."

"Just be here," he said.

"I _am_ here," I told him.

"Always?" he said hopefully.

"Always," I echoed.

Chuck exhaled, releasing a gust of warm air down my chest. "I love you."

"I love you, too," I whispered.

Chuck sat up and hugged my head again, holding it as he would hold Maria. I lightly patted his back and caressed his thighs, comforting him in any way I could.

"You'll be okay," I assured. "I'm here when you need me, alright?"

Chuck was silent for a moment before speaking again. "You're like my mother."

"In what way?" I asked curiously.

"You're nice," he replied. "You don't hurt me."

I was struck with a wave of devastation. I knew I probably saved his life, and I was likely the first pleasant person he had come across in awhile. But that didn't mean that it wasn't horrifically tragic to hear him say something like that. I had a feeling that his mother and I were probably the only two Sims he had truly recognized as nice to him. I could only imagine what his father did to him, and I assumed that most passersby in the streets threw rocks at him, if anything. The mere thought of what his overall life must have been like was enough to make a few tears fall.

Chuck noticed I had started crying and became alarmed. He pushed me back and stared at me with fright, wiping my tears away sloppily with his hands. "N-No! Please, no. D-Don't c-cry…"

I swallowed the lump in my throat hard and placed my hands firmly on his waist. "Chuck, listen to me. No one—_no one_—deserves what you've gone through. The people who assume you're stupid because you're scared and spent most of your life in the alley…they're wrong. I can't tell you how wrong they are. You're so sweet, Chuck. All they needed to do was be nice from the start. And they would see…" I choked. "They would see that you lost your mother and were abused by your father…if only they did the right thing, they'd know."

"But that's why you're here," Chuck said. "You saved me." And then he smiled that smile that I loved so much.

"I guess I did," I said. I swiped at my face one final time. "I guess I shouldn't dwell too much on your past, even though it still shocks me. You're such a good person underneath the turmoil, and it's not too late to turn things around."

"Things _are_ turned around," Chuck said. "I'm so happy." He giggled, making my stomach tickle.

I beamed. "Oh, I'm so glad to hear you say that. Believe it or not, I feel happier, too. Ever since I took you in, something in me changed. I felt like I was waking up and seeing the beauty of life for the first time. I mean, when I look at you, I just…You're so…beautiful. There's no better way of describing it. I just feel so lifted when I see that life, that passion in your eyes, even after what your father did to you. It gives me so much hope for the future. For me. For you. For us."

Chuck shyly kissed me on the cheek, catching me a bit off guard. His face flushed red and he giggled again, shifting sideways in my lap until I was cradling him like a child.

"Oh, you," I cooed, just as giddy as him. I attacked his face with kisses, and he giggled excitedly. When I made my way down to his neck, the juicy smell of his plasma hit me and brought my thirst back to the surface. I froze, my lips poised millimeters above his exposed flesh. Chuck must have sensed what I was feeling—he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me inward.

"Drink," he pleaded.

I pulled my head back a bit. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," he insisted. "Drink. My plasma is good. Thanks, Chuck."

I stared at him for a moment, wondering if he was slipping into another flashback. But he was staring back at me with his big, childish eyes. With a watering mouth, I leaned in and punctured his flesh, feeling instant relief as his nutrients flooded my mouth and ran down my waiting throat. I felt Chuck stiffen when my fangs broke his skin, and he gripped me tightly in pain as I drank. Once I had my fill, I pulled back to look at him. He exhaled when I detached my fangs, and he looked drowsy when I pulled away from his neck.

"I don't have to drink from you," I insisted. "I don't want to if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Drink," he persisted. "My plasma is good."

"It sure is," I said, licking my lips. "But I don't think I should take anymore from you tonight. Let's get you to bed."

Chuck sulked. "We never do anything."

"What do you mean?" I asked, suddenly concerned.

"We're at work all day," he explained. "You work all day. We don't do things together."

"We just did," I protested. "But if you feel like we don't spend enough time together, I have tomorrow off. We'll have the whole day to ourselves. And in the evening when the sun's gone, we could visit the park, or the ocean or something. Just you and me. No work."

"No work…" he echoed contentedly. He snuggled my chest and gripped my neck tightly with both hands. I stood up with him in my arms and carried him to bed. Once we were settled, he slung a fragile arm around me and again whispered: "No work."

Kissing him on the forehead, I promised: "No work."

When I woke up, it was early in the afternoon. Chuck was still asleep, his arm extended over the bed where my torso was. I glanced out the window at the sleeping daytime city, then carefully sat back on the bed and watched Chuck for several minutes. He looked exactly as I had seen him when I first saw him asleep, except he was much cleaner. He was always so peaceful in sleep, but it warmed me now to know that he was nearly as peaceful in wake as well.

I jolted as I heard a knock on my apartment door. Leaving Chuck to sleep peacefully, I strolled out of the bedroom and went to open the door. I was surprised to see Kai standing there, expressionless and firm-looking.

I snarled. "Come to see if the alley kid's gone yet?"

"No," he muttered. His voice was shockingly serious and regretful. "Look Steve, I've been thinking about what you said. About Chuck and his parents…well, I can't see inside his head like you can, but I'm willing to believe you. Just tell him…I never meant to make him feel worthless. I know you hate me right now, so you don't believe me, but I mean it when I say that. I just didn't understand. I still don't understand, but now I'm willing to listen. I want to help him however I can, starting now."

Kai pulled something out of his back pocket and handed it to me. I froze, speechless as I found my hands cradling the long-lost Maria.


End file.
